


My Brother, Dean

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Coming Out, Did I Mention Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Supportive Sam Winchester, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Sam Winchester doesn't know much about Dean's secret other-half. He only has half a name to go on 'Cas'. Whoever she is, she's probably a gorgeous brunette who loves beer and pie and Sam doesn't care that Dean wants to keep her a secret, he's just glad his brother is happy.It was going to happen eventually and Dean invites Sam out, probably with an eye to introducing them at last.Nothing goes to plan and it turns out Sam knows nothing.





	My Brother, Dean

_Cause underneath the manly sheen, It is my brother, a boy named Dean._

It was a sort of tradition that whenever Sam Winchester was visiting his brother he would, unbeknownst to Dean, arrive a night early. He would stay in a motel, the kind he and his brother had practically lived in growing up, and he would head into the town to find something suitably touristy to do. Sam loved his brother, he knew Dean loved him too, but their interests were not often... _compatible_. This way Sam could see his brother, but also check out something on his own, take in something of wherever Dean was living. Somehow it made him feel closer to his brother, even though it was usually something Dean wouldn't be seen dead at. 

He didn't know why Dean had asked him to fly in for a visit on this particular occasion, but he had an inkling. Not that Dean didn't invite him out often, but it was usually a case of, "hey man, if you're not doing anything..." This had been different. He'd specifically asked Sam if he could come out this weekend, he hadn't given a reason, but Sam had heard the relief when he'd said, "sure, Dean, I'll be there for Saturday." He knew Dean wanted to tell him something and that it was important, otherwise he would never have put Sam out by dragging him all the way out from California, even though they were both always happy to see each other. It was important enough to warrant a face to face meeting so Sam suspected, and secretly hoped, that this was the weekend Dean was going to tell him about ' _Cas_.'

Not that Dean knew that Sam knew anything about Cas, how could he? Dean hadn't mentioned it and it was only a trail of breadcrumbs spread over two years of bimonthly visits that Sam had even picked up on it. Well, he was almost a lawyer, he was used to interpreting evidence.

Firstly, Dean had never stayed in one place, choosing to travel his way across the Mid-West, working as a mechanic or a bartender, one time a barista, until he inevitably moved on. The fact that he'd stayed in a single place for two years was significant and pointed to something or someone keeping him there. However much Dean enjoyed his job, restoring classic cars for an auto-shop, Sam couldn't see him sticking around for the sake of getting under a hood. Then there was the fact that he was happy. Like, really happy. It showed every time they saw each other, every time they spoke, Sam had never seen Dean so settled. He seemed so comfortable in his own skin in a way he never had before, he was still Dean, but he was softer somehow, though Sam would never bring this up to him. He was just glad to see Dean content, he deserved it.

The name 'Cas' had come from a text message that had flashed up on Dean's phone while he'd been in the shower at Sam's about six months after Sam had noticed the change. If he'd wanted to, Sam could have unlocked the phone and trawled through the message history, but however much he wanted to he knew he couldn't push his brother on this. There was a reason, whatever it was, that Dean was keeping it from him. Dean would tell him when he was ready, though granted Sam hadn't expected it to take a couple of years.

The text had been short, to the point, and it wasn't Sam's fault that it came up on the screen as it arrived. It was short enough that Sam had taken it in before he intended to look.

_From Cas: Hope you're having fun, I miss you. Love you_.

Normally Sam would have teased Dean until Judgement Day over it, but not this time. Because as much as they teased each other, all they really wanted for each other was happiness and Sam was just glad that Dean had finally, _finally_ found someone that made him happy. He didn't know anything more about Cas, but in his head, he imagined a gorgeous brunette who had probably been a cheerleader in her time, with a smile that would wrap Dean around her little finger. She'd love beer and pie because Sam couldn't imagine Dean being so happy with someone who didn't share his love of those two vital commodities, and she wouldn't take any of Dean's crap.

But in less than twenty-four hours, all of this would be put to rest and Sam would no doubt be getting along famously by whoever she was. Until then, he had found some kind of event at a local museum to entertain himself. He hadn't paid much attention to the specifics, some art show that he really didn't have much interest in, but it meant he'd be in a museum after hours and strolling between the exhibits in dim lighting with hardly anyone around seemed to speak to Sam's soul.

He was glad he came. He couldn't imagine Dean would be so intrigued by a collection of ceramic shards, but Sam thought it was great. Not so much the ceramic, though they were at least somewhat intriguing, it was wandering around a public space alone, at night, it felt almost forbidden. It was quiet, so quiet he could hear every one of his footfalls and his small sighs of interest echoed around him in the large, empty spaces. Everyone else must be looking at the paintings and drinking free champagne, it suited Sam fine. He was so caught up in the ambiance he almost missed the show completely, which really he wouldn't have minded but after he'd spent way, way too long admiring a collection of illuminated manuscripts from thirteenth-century France, he found himself in the gallery.

There weren't that many people left here now, in fact, the show would be ended soon, Sam felt a small twinge of guilt that he was coming in so late, but the woman at the entrance didn't seem to mind and she handed him a flyer, cheerily. He'd passed several paintings without really looking at them, art wasn't really his thing when his eyes were drawn to a charcoal sketch of a man, a man that looked surprisingly like Dean. The one next to it looked like Dean too, so did the one next to that, and the one next to that...well...that was definitely Dean.

For the first time, Sam turned the flyer over in his hands, not knowing whether to laugh when he saw the title of the exhibition; " _Dean_."

" _Huh_ ," he said, more amused than anything. He didn't know Dean did modelling, but then his eyes fell to the bottom of the page 'by Castiel Novak'.

Cas.

Castiel Novak.

" _No way_ ," he exclaimed. Dean was with an artist, an artist with a really weird name. Maybe she was European or something. Sam regretted coming in so late, suddenly he wanted to look at every painting, every sketch of his brother. Here was Dean under the Impala, looking like he was in his element, there was Dean leaning against a kitchen counter, staring into a cup of coffee as though it were his lifeblood. Sam couldn't stop smiling, though there were one or two full-size canvases he wished he hadn't seen. Objectively they might be described as 'erotic' but either way it was a look he had never wanted to see his brother wearing. He moved away quickly and ended up face to face with a rather different kind of painting.

It was still Dean, in fact, this was the most Dean he had ever seen. All of the displays showed Dean but this was the one that showed Sam's brother. It was a pencil line drawing, so realistic it could have been a black and white photograph. Dean sat on a stool at a counter, his head rested on one hand, his eyes downcast and looking intently at the phone in his other hand. Sam had spent years in close quarters with Dean, he could read him like a book, but he'd never seen him look so exposed before. Sam wondered how Castiel had managed to convince Dean to let her show him with such fragility. The mask had slipped and whatever Dean was thinking about at that moment had him worried, scared even, Sam hadn't seen him look like that without a bottle of whiskey beside him to deal with it.

"He hates that one," a voice said beside him. Sam glanced over, there was a man in a trench coat with a tie that looked like it might actually be backward.

"Dean?" Sam asked, following the man's gaze. The man nodded and Sam looked back to the picture, "yeah I can see why." He realised what he'd said a beat too late and he looked back, stumbling over the words, "not that it isn't good, it's just...I can't imagine him happy about looking so...well...vulnerable. He's always got that strong man, never show weakness thing going on, huh?" Sam waved his hand towards the other paintings, "doesn't like to show when he feels something. It's nice," he added, softly, "it's nice to see him like this, none of that toxic masculinity bullshit..."

The man's blue eyes had lit up during Sam's little exposition, "you got all that from this?" he asked, gesturing to the exhibit, looking as though Christmas had come early.

Sam shuffled his feet, "well, kinda, I sort of know-"

"Castiel!" the woman who had greeted Sam, cut him off now, leaning over to grab the man by the shoulder, "they need you out back."

The man nodded and smiled at Sam, "excuse me."

"Wait," Sam said, thunderstruck, and the man turned. "Castiel? As in Castiel Novak?"

"That's right," the man said, extending his hand.

" _You're_ Castiel Novak? The painter? This is your exhibit?" Sam was saying, he was babbling he knew, but he couldn't stop the words falling out.

The man was frowning slightly now, taking his hand back untouched, "yes, that's right. Excuse me, I really must go," he said, following after the woman, leaving Sam to stare at a worried Dean. For the first time, he looked at the card beside it and saw the title, ' _Telling Sam_.'

Sam felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, certainly, his heart felt like it had broken within his chest. So, Cas was not the cheerleader type Sam had imagined, more like an almost six-foot guy with delightfully messy hair and apparently no knowledge of how to tie a tie properly. Sam studied the portrait again, as though he were seeing it for the first time. He could see the trepidation on Dean's face, the fear of rejection and he knew why it was there. He remembered their dad's opinion on such things, it was hard not to. Dean had gotten at least one lecture and a right hook to the jaw when John had found him messing around with that nice guy in the next room that one time. That was the only time Sam had seen the fallout, but he'd assumed it was because Dean had stuck to women from then on.

Apparently not.

Did Dean think he'd react like John? Is that why he'd been hiding Cas all this time? Sam could have cried, hell he _wanted_ to cry because unlike his brother he knew it was ok. All this time Dean had been happy but didn't want to share it with his family, with his own brother, in case they'd confirmed every one of John Winchester's worst opinions. He didn't know whether he wanted to hug Dean and tell him it was ok or smack him one for being an idiot. But then he remembered the way Dean had crawled, literally crawled, into Sam's bed and reached for him while they heard the muffled shouts through thin motel walls, ' _You keep your boy the hell away from my son_.'

It dawned on him that Sam was going to hug the shit out of Dean, chick flick moments be damned. He wanted to call him, right then and tell him it was ok, he didn't want Dean lying awake tonight worrying about what was going to happen tomorrow. But he also knew if he did that Dean would freak out about him having met Castiel and then he'd freak even more knowing that Sam had seen the exhibit and- Sam closed his eyes and raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose, damn their father had a lot to answer for.

"Still here?" a now familiar low voice asked, and inspiration struck along with it.

"Hey, I know this is going to sound strange but if I gave you something would you be able to pass it onto Dean?" Sam asked, hardly surprised when Castiel frowned.

"I'm not sure if that would be appropriate."

"Mr. Novak...Castiel," Sam said, reaching out to stop him turning away, "my name is Sam...Sam Winchester."

Castiel's blue eyes looked from the hand on his shoulder to Sam's face. For a moment neither of them spoke before Castiel finally said, softly, "I thought you looked familiar. There are several photographs of you at home," his brow furrowed, "your brother said you were arriving tomorrow. He..." a thought dawned on him, "he's going to be...upset you found out this way, he doesn't think you'll approve," he said quietly, unable to look Sam in the eye.

"I know, but listen, if you could just pass something on for me everything will be fine and it'll probably help Dean out too."

Castiel seemed to think for a moment and Sam could see the conflict between wanting to protect Dean and avoid the awkwardness of telling him that he'd already met his brother, and wanting to actually help him. "Ok," he said, eventually, "but the show ended ten minutes ago, Dean's picking me up soon-"

But Sam was way ahead of him, already fishing a pen out of his pocket so he could write on the back of the flyer for Castiel's exhibit, it was the only paper he had to hand. Afterward, he couldn't rightly remember what he'd written, something about how he knew and it was ok. How their father was an asshole and wrong. Then he'd veered dangerously into chick flick territory, assuring him that Sam loved him, supported him and he'd always worship him as his big brother. He'd signed it S.W. the mark from when they were kids, folded it and pressed it into Castiel's hand. He thought about telling him not to read it, but it wouldn't matter one way or the other.

"Thank you, Castiel," Sam breathed and Castiel nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket.

"I have to go, I'm not sure how I'm going to explain this to Dean but...I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, though he seemed uncertain. "I will see you tomorrow, Sam," he said, almost awkwardly, unsure of how he should part from the stranger who was practically family.

"Hey," Sam called after him, as he left, and it was almost reluctantly that Castiel turned. "It's great to meet you, your art is incredible...thank you for looking after my brother."

Sam's imagination had been right about one thing. Cas had an amazing smile.

Making his way back to the motel, Sam made one stop to get dinner and wasn't surprised to find several texts on his phone when he got back. All from Dean.

> _Dude what the hell?!_  
> _Why didn't you tell me you were coming in early?_  
> _Tomorrow we're gonna meet for breakfast and neither of us is going to mention this note you pansy ass sap_.  
> _In fact just delete these messages, you ever mention this again I'll kill you_.   
> _There's a waffle house on North Avenue. See you there. 10 am_.  
> _Seriously dude, what the hell?!_

Sam smirked, he wasn't going to delete the messages but for Dean's sake, he would pretend that none of this had happened and he was just going along to meet Castiel who he had definitely known had always been a man because why would he not have?

The last text came about an hour later and Sam could imagine Dean having finally breathed out and processed everything in the note.

> _Thanks, Sam._

He smiled, even more so when another message came ten minutes later.

> _Delete that too. Jerk_.

Sam responded the only way he could ( _Bitch_ ) before he turned his phone off for the night and got as comfortable as he could on cheap motel linen, grinning despite it all, wondering if he could get away with hugging Dean the following morning.

Ironically, it was Castiel who Sam saw first at the waffle house, Dean was nowhere in sight, but he recognised the trench coat from the night before and as he came closer he saw that although Castiel was wearing a different tie, it was still on wrong.

"Sam," Castiel said with genuine warmth, which Sam took to be a positive indicator for Dean's mood. As did the fact that Castiel didn't feel the need to warn him in advance for any potential outbursts, simply saying, "it's nice to meet you, properly, at last. Dean's told me so much about you."

"All bad," Dean said, appearing from the restroom and slapping his brother on his shoulder. Sam couldn't help it, he jumped up and pulled Dean into a tight embrace, which he noted Dean leaned into...for about a tenth of a second. Then he was pushing Sam away, "get off me, loser," but there was no hint of annoyance there and Sam could have sworn Dean was smiling.

There was no awkwardness. If Dean had been terrified about this meeting, and Sam just knew he had been, he didn't show it. He was more at ease than Sam could ever remember seeing him and it was all due to the blue-eyed man beside him who kept a shy hand on Dean's arm the whole time until the waffles arrived, then he needed it back to eat. Sam tried to keep his eyes on his food, but it was hard when Dean kept looking at Castiel with the most adorable expression, as though he couldn't quite believe he was there. Then Castiel had gotten cream on the corner of his mouth and spectacularly failed to wipe it off so Dean had just had to kiss it off. Sam had never seen him like this, not with anyone, it was hard not to stare at his brother being so openly affectionate and _happy_.

Sam spent the weekend with them, though at one point he did wonder whether he was going to get diabetes from just how sweet a couple Dean and Castiel were. But he loved them, he loved them both, Castiel was perfect for his brother and Sam didn't have to pretend to like him. Dean and Sam had disappeared for drinks one night where Dean confessed the reason he'd asked Sam out here was to tell him he was going to ask Cas to marry him. Dean hadn't protested that hug, in fact, he hugged back but he'd drawn the line at hugging again at the airport gate, seeing Sam off with a fond pat to the shoulder and a single wave.

He wasn't surprised to get a text a few weeks later.

> _Cas said yes :-)_

He was surprised to receive a delivery not long after that, couriered to the door and wrapped in so much bubble wrap Sam wondered if he should take out stocks. It was the painting from the gallery, the one he had spent so much time standing in front of. Dean sitting on a stool, filled with trepidation, but it didn't look so foreboding now. As though the subject knew everything was going to be alright, or maybe it was just because Sam knew everything was fine, but Dean seemed softer almost. Either way, it was still a remarkable likeness. Attached was a note, ' _He wasn't going to let me keep it anyway - Castiel_ '.

Sam unpackaged it and started looking for a place to hang it, assuming he had a wall large enough, but as he did so he noticed a small piece of card that had slipped out of the wrappings onto the floor. He turned it over in his hand, he recognised it as the card from the gallery but the painting's title ' _Telling Sam_ ' had been crossed out and next to it, in Castiel's incredibly neat hand was written, ' _My Brother, Dean.'_

 

 


End file.
